


Astray

by unsettled



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:29:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solitary moments between Riario and Leo on the trip back to civilization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Astray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts).



> I've only watched up to season two (can't quite bring myself to watch three because then it will be over noooo), and this is sort of a ... 'what if' au from there.

Zo's been muttering to himself for hours, shooting dark glares at Riario, Nico kept close to his side. When they stop for the night, finally, it is Zo who uncharacteristic volunteers to attempt to find some sort of food, and drags Nico along with him. Leo rolls his eyes, already tired of the ceaseless hostility after only a few days, and sits, trying to find a less uncomfortable position. Riario slumps down nearby, pale with pain, staring into the jungle where Nico and Zo have disappeared. 

"He thinks you've corrupted Nico," Leo says, quietly, with a sidelong glance. Riario's mouth tightens, irked. 

"And you?" he asks. "Do you also believe I’ve twisted his soul?"

"I don't think Nico's as easily led astray as that," Leo replies. 

Riario barks a sharp laugh. "I haven't corrupted him," he says. "I’ve no intent to do so. I’m simply presenting him with facts of the world, allowing him to learn from them-"

"He's not your student," Leo interrupts. 

"Nor is he yours," Riario snaps back. "You teach him nothing, guide him nowhere. All you wish from him is adoration and wonder at your inventions, your little toys. All he has learned from you is worthless, is gleaned from what he has seen, not what you have shown."

"And what, then, are you teaching him that's so much more valuable than how to create, how to explore, how to think beyond the limits imposed on us by small minds?" 

The look Riario gives him is both weary and haughty. "I am teaching him how to survive what's coming." His eyes drop. "He may be the only one of us that does."

"What is coming?" Leo asks, and Riario's eyes snaps back up to meet his, and again, again as always, he is trapped in that stare, held captive too easily by the endless depth. 

"Upheaval," Riario says, low, almost fearful, almost reverent. "Cleansing. War." 

Leo lingers, wordless, in the intensity of his gaze. 

*

"Zo," he calls after him, "wait-", but Zoro has already stomped off into the dense green of the jungle. Nico casts back a look at him over his shoulder, something close to disappointment, as he chases after. 

Leo sighs, and paces the length of the little clearing they'd paused in, before Zo started sniping at him, before they'd both raised their voices over … over nothing, over something he already can't remember. Everyone's touchy, on edge, antsy and snarling at the slightest offense. He'll come back, he always does, but until then there's nothing to do but wait, and fume, and wait. 

Riario sets his back against a tree and slides down, awkwardly, to rest on the ground, his broken leg stretched before him. He tilts his head back, looks up at the faint sunlight scattered through the leaves. "He's jealous," he says.

Leo stops, pivots towards him. "What?"

Riario doesn't look away from his study of greenery. "I’m holding you back," he says, "making everything take longer; I can't move as fast, I need more rest, I need more care. The longer it takes, the higher the risk the ship will leave." 

Leo shakes his head, thrown by the change of subject. "We're not leaving you behind."

"Why?" Riario asks, detached. "I am your enemy. I’ve caused you all manner of grief. I’m not a friend, not even a comrade. I am a risk, even now, with this uneasy truce." He tilts his head down, finally, eyes dark and shadowed. "Should we return to Florence, I will once again be your enemy, and I will not hesitate to use what I have learned of you. It would be safer by far to kill me, now, where none would know, before I can regain the strength to resist." He tilts his head to the side, curiously. "And yet you continue to burden yourself with me."

"We can't just leave you behind," Leo says, "and we can't just … murder you. Not after all that's happened." 

"Why?" Riario asks, calmly, as though he were discussing something far more inconsequential than his own death. "You've left others behind," and Leo jerks back at that. 

"Because," he starts, and words fail him. 

"Why?" Riario asks again, quieter. "Because I have helped you? You refused to leave me behind before I assisted you. You've refused to kill me more than once, more than twice. Why?"

"I can't," Leo says, a bare whisper. "I can't." 

There is a long moment of silence, his denial heavy between them, and then Riario closes his eyes. 

Tips his head back against the tree again, and "That," he says, "is why Zoroaster is jealous. You see?" 

He does, and until Nico and Zo come back, stays as far from Riario as he can. 

*

Riario speaks of the pope once, and once only, the entire dreadful trip. 

Leo is attempting to clean the long, ugly gash on Riario's leg, and while Riario isn't screamig, isn't making any sound at all, he's white about the lips and struggling to keep his breaths even. He needs a distraction. 

"I suppose the first thing you'll do when we return is run straight back to the pope," he says, hoping to provoke a reaction. 

Riario is silent for too long. "No?" Leo asks, distracted himself.

"Yes," Riario replies, looking off into the forest, distantly. "Not the … wisest choice, perhaps, but yes. I suppose it's all I have left." 

"Not wise?" Leo asks, almost amused. "Everyone knows you're a favorite, easily forgiven."

"Forgiven," Riario says quietly. "I don't know." 

"Well, one can always hope for redemption," Leo says, hands still working away, though slower, as he watches the shadows of some dark though drift across Riario's face. 

"No," Riario says, firmly. "Hoping for redemption is quite beyond me. The pope is not … a follower of a merciful god. And I, I have nothing with which to bargain. No Book of Leaves, no hidden knowledge, no sway over you, not even," and he glances down, at his leg, still swollen and blackened and unable to support him, "a whole self to present." He smiles, a small, bitter thing. "The pope has little use for cripples."

Leo stops, hands resting lightly on Riario's leg. "You're not crippled," he says. 

"Are you sure?" Riario asks, something desperate and lost in his voice. "In these conditions, attempting to travel like this, do you really think it will heal sound?" He glances away. "All I had left," he says, so softly Leo can barely hear him, "was my body and my loyalty, and I have broken both in your pursuit." 

Leo's breath catches in his throat. "You … you don't have to go back to him," he says, hesitant. 

Riario shakes his head. "Whatever he might choose to do with me," he says, "is better by far than what would happen to me as a deserter." 

Maybe, Leo thinks, but maybe, just maybe, it would be worth it to try to escape, to seek another path. 

There is fear in Riario's eyes like Leo has never seen from him. He finishes his bandaging in silence. 

*

It's not fair, he knows it's not fair, to catch Riario like this, trap him, when he is unable to escape, unable to defend himself, physically, damaged and hurting and angry and unable to do anything about it. "Get off me," he hisses, twisting against Leo's grip. 

"No," Leo says. "I’m not letting you sidestep this again. Answer me."

Riario snarls at him, and Leo is reminded that, handicapped as he might be, now, he is far from helpless. "Why do you think, artista?" and Riario's words are capable of hurting as deeply as any dagger. "You know what I am, and what I am capable of," he says, taunting, and yes, Leo knows, he knows, but...

"That is not all you are," he says. "You could be more. There's still a thread, buried, but there. You aren't evil."

Riario laughs, angry and brittle. "People who believe that have a tendency to die," he says. 

Leo can feel the tendons of Riario's wrists flexing under his hands, testing. He shifts, leans in closer, letting almost his full weight rest between his hands, circled round Riario's wrists, and his torso, pressing Riario down against the ground. "Answer me," he says, closer, till his whole field of vision is filled with Riario's eyes. 

Riario sags, slightly, the barest concession "I have told you things I have told no other person, ever," he whispers. "Is that not answer enough?" 

"No," Leo says, again, and, almost begging, "answer me." 

Riario is silent, silent, silent, refusing to even meet his eyes. The moment stretches on, and on, and finally snaps, breaks. Leo shifts back, takes his hands from Riario's wrists and set them instead to the ground on either side of his shoulders. "Don't go back," he says. "Don't take that risk. Let go of this obsession. Let go of me."

Riario's eyes open at that, warm, captivating. "I have followed you beyond the very ends of the earth," he says, incredulously. He brings a hand up, slides his hand to the back of Leo's head. "We are the sun and the moon," he whispers. "I cannot let you go," words breathed into Leo's mouth as he is pulled down, Riario's fingers tightening in his hair as their lips meet. "I cannot ever let you go," Riario says, and that is answer enough.


End file.
